If Only
by JA35
Summary: Mansfield Park sequel from Henry Crawford's POV.


Chapter 4 in progress

_Here is a short story I wrote for a challenge at another site. It's written from Henry Crawford's POV - Henry, the most interesting character of Mansfield Park __- and takes place some years after Fanny and Edmund were married. It's just a one-shot, don't expect more, at least not now. I have to finish Wickham's Daughter first!_

If Only

The storm had been building all day. The ferocious wind tore at the trees and plants and rain was beating merciless at the windows of the great mansion. The windows were boarded up and the only success the wind had was rattling the panes. Inside the mansion the housekeeper and servants had retired. Only in the library the candles were lit and the master of the house sat with his guest while enjoying a brandy.

He was a man in his early thirties, of medium height, with a dark complexion and unruly, curly hair. He was not particularly handsome and yet when he spoke his voice was melodious and his words were eloquent. In short, what he lacked in looks was more than compensated by his powers of speech.

His guest, a young man in his late twenties looked at his host with contempt. 'I don't see why you hold me here, Crawford. Anything of importance you might have had to say could have been said at the Assembly.'

Henry Crawford merely shrugged. Anyone from these parts would recognize the signs of a full blown gale and would be a fool not to make sure to be home when it started.

'I have watched you all night,' he began, 'and the past two months whenever we were thrown together in company.' Sighing he picked up his glass of brandy. The swirling liquid reflected the candlelight and the fire in the glass. 'I must ask you why you make advances towards my sister Mary.'

'You have no right, no right at all, to judge me,' the young man said defiantly.

A faint color crept under Henry's tan, showing the arrow had hit its target. Not willing to be distracted he continued, 'Why now, when she is married? Why did you not propose to her before she was married?'

In the ensuing silence both listened to the building storm and the sound of the incessant rain on the window panes. 'Is that why you insisted we talk here? To be safe from the storm?'

'Wrong, Markham. As magistrate of these parts and being closest to the coast, I have the duty to be here in case of shipwrecks and other mishaps. I suggest you hear me out and then you can decide about my right!'

With a dark look Charles Markham sat back and tried to listen politely. Although he thought he knew what was coming, nothing amazed him more than the spot-on observations of Henry Crawford.

Henry hesitated, clearly ill at ease. 'I know how this came about. You enjoyed Mary's attentions but did not care enough for her to propose. Valuing your freedom and basking in the attentions of the ladies you led her on until she finally choose elsewhere. The fact alone that these feelings kept you from matrimony is a clear indication that Mary is not the right person for you.'

Here he was interrupted by Charles. 'How do you know this, have you talked to my servant?'

Henry's lips curled in contempt, but he was not to be drawn away from the subject. 'I am like you. I have been there and done it. I courted two ladies at the same time, two sisters, one engaged, the other free. And I proposed to their cousin!'

Getting up from his chair he filled his glass at the drinking cabinet. 'I saw something in that girl that made me regret all my dealings with her two cousins. I pursued her. But she saw right through me and avoided me like the plague.'

Despite himself Charles Markham was intrigued. 'You left it at that?'

'No, not at all. I never gave up and I tried to win her heart; I even tried to gain an advantage by advancing her brother's promotion. She was very grateful, but not enough to accept me. She distrusted me more than ever. When she traveled to her parents' home in Portsmouth I followed her after a few weeks. Portsmouth life was hard on her. She was never strong and living in the city left her perpetually fatigued. I offered her the world, all of this and I would have made her my wife there and then, but she would not trust my love although I detected a thaw in her feelings.'

Coming back to his guest he faced him. 'We are not so different, Markham! She was testing me, inconstancy was my biggest fault. When I left her I met with Maria Bertram in town who was married to a rich fool by then. Need I tell you more? Unsatisfied with her marriage, still wanting me, she pursued me relentlessly like only married women will. Does this sound familiar to you?'

'Lord, how could you?' burst out Charles Markham. Half rising from his chair with a pale face he exclaimed in agitation, 'She is your own sister, I was chasing her, I still want her. Her conduct is blameless.'

A mirthless laugh escaped from Henry's lips. 'Really? Mary and blameless, somehow these two words do not belong in one sentence. If you can vouch for her conduct then do so. Is it really all your doing? Is the elopement your idea?'

The young man started violently. His mouth resembled that of a fish on dry land. It opened, it closed, but no words came out of it.

Henry sat down. 'I have been there, I have done it and I still regret it. Before the week was over I had tired of Maria. I was disgusted by myself, my own weakness and my selfishness. I lost Fanny forever because of it. When Edmund learned of it he severed all ties with Mary, went home, fell in love with Fanny who loathed me more than ever. They were married in a couple of years and that was it.'

'You never saw her again?'

Rising from his chair, Henry put the glass on the side table and walked over to the window. He pressed his forehead to the cold glass, muscles working in his face. When finally he did speak, Charles Markham had to strain his ears, so low and even was the sound of Henry's voice.

'I did, on a night like this. I never understood what they were doing up here. There was a carriage accident and they all came here for shelter. Six tired and hungry persons. The housekeeper let them in and provided food and lodging. Bertram himself was injured and needed a doctor. When I was called in to assess the situation I learned of their presence under my roof.' He passed his hand over his forehead as if to rid it from the memories.

_White as a sheet, Fanny had been sitting at her husband's side, holding his hand. When he came in she had risen and it was then that he noticed she was in the family way. To his dying day he would never forget his intense feelings of longing and regret. He still loved her and would do so till his last day. It was then that he had resolved to live his life as she would have wanted him to. It was her influence that made him bare his soul to this young man._

'Bertram was my friend, you know. I loved to tease him, to help him and to talk to him. He was so unlike me and Mary that I had great hopes of his influence on her. Mary loved him and he thought he loved her, but he didn't know her then. His good opinion was lost the day I disgraced the family with my conduct. You see Charles, _my_ conduct! Maria pursued me, but I should have been the stronger of the two.'

_He had sent for the doctor immediately and had done all in his power to provide Fanny with a little comfort. No words had been exchanged between them; she was ill at ease and pre-occupied with her husband. He was overcome with shame and embarrassment; it was the first time he saw her after the elopement. He had not bothered them with his person again. From the second floor, he had watched them leave Everingham; his steward standing in for him to see them off.  
_  
'You are shocked by this tale.'

Charles Markham had sat quietly through it and now that it was finished he remained silent. 'That was my intention. Refrain from doing things you will regret later when you find the right person.'

Charles looked at Henry who sat looking at him and suddenly he was grateful for the service Henry had done him. He shuddered to think of his intended elopement with a married woman.

'I am sure I must apologize, Crawford, for my conduct and my words earlier this evening, but I can not do so now. I hope you do not hold it against me. I have to think on it, examine myself and then decide on my course of action. I thank you for being open with me. You are a wiser man than I am.'

Henry Crawford made a defeated gesture with his hand. 'It could have been my wife and my child she was carrying. I felt like tearing her from his side, pressing her against my heart, drying her tears.' His face was sombre and dejected.

'She would have been mine, Markham, if I had been firm and traveled to Everingham like I promised her. She could have been mine ……, if only I had!'

_Well, what do you think? Do you like this Henry? Please tell me, I love feedback. _


End file.
